


carbon dioxide

by theholyjuggernaut



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Awful Buckley Parents, Buckley Parents if I see you it's ON SIGHT, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Secrets, Found Family, Gen, Hurt Evan "Buck" Buckley, Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, Loss of Trust, Post-Episode: s04e04 9-1-1 What's Your Grievance?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:40:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29330976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theholyjuggernaut/pseuds/theholyjuggernaut
Summary: In a better world, there were no secret dead brothers, no baby boxes, and no realizations that Buck's parents never loved nor wanted him.-The morning at the 118 after Buck learns the family secret. 4x04 coda.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley & Eddie Diaz, Evan "Buck" Buckley & Firehouse 118 Crew
Comments: 12
Kudos: 240
Collections: 9-1-1 Tales





	carbon dioxide

The big metaphor of Evan Buckley’s life is, essentially, a soda bottle. 

Depending how well things go each day determines how violently Buck is shaken, and whether or not he will come one step closer to bursting. There  _ will _ be a point–he just can’t say when or where or how. Buck, and anyone unlucky enough to be in his vicinity when it happens, won’t know until the bottle cap comes flying off, along with the deafening pop of pressure and the inevitable release of everything inside. 

He’s convinced himself that his parents don’t hate him. Despite this, there’s always an echoing reply in the foreground of his mind– _ But they don’t love me, either _ . After just two failed family dinners, it’s blindingly clear that they never will. At twelve years old, Buck was indignant and lonely, and now, that indignity turns to a heavy-set rage, and the loneliness reshapes into something much sadder–a horrible, suffocating kind of grief. Like ankle weights, Buck must lug this new truth around everywhere he goes. There is no rest for his conscience regardless how desperately he tries to forget. 

The 118 is quiet in the morning. Buck arrives early; he has a standard 24 hour shift today, so he might as well start it off with a third cup of coffee. He didn’t sleep at all last night, if it wasn’t apparent by the bags under his eyes and the slight slur in his voice. If Bobby catches him like this, he might think Buck is drunk, and that is an assumption he cannot deal with right now. 

If anything goes wrong today–anything at all–the firefighter’s urge to curl up in a ball and cry might just win over him. But who knows, maybe his dignity will let him do that somewhere far away from his friends and coworkers. 

Buck sits on the couch, sipping his espresso intermittently, while he tries to find something on TV to dull the sharp edges of yesterday’s groundbreaking news. Buck can’t help it–the only way to not think about it is to turn off his brain, which isn’t exactly an option as a first responder. He eventually finds a show that isn’t garbage and immerses himself in the plot, trying to pretend that his life isn’t his own. Wishing it were fiction, because at this point, it’s starting to feel like it. A secret dead brother, for Christ’s sake...

When Bobby arrives to the station, he almost looks surprised to see Buck. It’s not like the younger firefighter enjoyed waking up early, but his captain doesn’t need to know he technically never woke up this morning. Today and yesterday have merged into one long, drawn out nightmare Buck just wishes would end. 

“Long night?” Bobby smiles, raising an eyebrow. He rustles around the pantry for some cooking supplies, and Buck tiredly shakes his head–to both the question and the silent invitation to breakfast. 

“No, uh...I’m not hungry,” he strains his voice, “but thanks.” 

Bobby looks happy this morning; Buck won’t ruin it for him. Athena and Bobby are lucky to have each other. Buck wonders what it’d be like to have his captain as a father. To have family dinners, to speak on a regular basis, to visit in the hospital, to help lick whatever wounds ail them. 

Buck has Maddie, and Maddie has Buck. All they have is each other–except not anymore. Buck isn’t ungrateful for his sister’s company or support, but everything with Chimney and the baby makes Buck feel like he’s being pushed to the sidelines again. He hates to think it–to even consider that he’s feeling dejected because his sister is happily in love with a great, solid guy. Another surge of loneliness washes over Buck. How pathetic is that? 

He’s happy for Maddie–he is. But she didn’t tell him until now. Why  _ now? _ Why not when he was eighteen, after leaving their parents’ house in the dust behind him? Why not when she showed up at his apartment years ago, talking about “a new start”? She must have been worried he’d kick her out, that she’d have nowhere else to go. That notion almost hurts as much as the secret itself–that Maddie couldn’t trust him enough yet to tell him the truth. 

Buck is staring into his half-finished cup of coffee, his reflection staring back up at him with a mirrored lack of enthusiasm. It’s silent, he realizes belatedly. Did Bobby say something and is waiting for a response? Buck can’t find it in himself to make a facade from scratch this early in the morning. 

There’s too much hurt writhing inside of him; he barely even notices Hen and Eddie arrive together, chatting and catching up along the stairs. The moment they see Buck, Hen grimaces a bit and says, “I take it dinner with your parents didn’t go well.” 

Buck wants nothing more than to laugh and tell her it wasn’t so bad. Just the standard kind of dysfunctional. In a better world, there were no secret dead brothers, no baby boxes, and no realizations that his parents never loved nor wanted him. Buck tries his best to smile, but it’s clear by the looks his friends give him that it doesn’t come across as genuine. 

Chimney strolls upstairs last, keeping a firm gaze on anything but Buck, and he can’t really blame the guy. Buck doesn’t know what he’d do in Chim’s situation: betray his girlfriend’s trust over an awful family secret, or tell his long-time coworker friend every detail of said explosive information. Buck can’t blame Chimney for acting weird the past few days with his parents in town. After two awkward family gatherings, and one giant blow up on Buck’s end, to come to work and pretend nothing happened...it should be nearly impossible. 

“Morning, Chim,” Eddie says slowly, looking him up and down, and then turns to face Buck as if to compare their exhaustion. “That bad, huh?” 

Chim just sighs halfheartedly, shooting a few surreptitious glances in Buck’s direction. “You don’t know the half of it.” 

As Bobby sets the table, he squints in Buck’s direction, his initial humor at the situation dampened by Buck’s unfading dreariness. “Jeez, what did your folks do? You look like you’re about to pass out.” 

“I feel that, boys,” Hen nods. “Parents can be...” she trails off, letting her eyes bug out slightly–an explanation in itself. 

Eddie slides down onto the couch beside Buck. He leans in, bumping Buck’s shoulder with his own. “Might be good to talk to your therapist about it,” he suggests, “if you can get ahold of her this early.”

Buck frowns, avoiding his friend’s eyes. “Nah, nah, I’m good. I’m not gonna bother her right now.”

Eddie does a double take. “Bother?” he echoes incredulously. “She’s your  _ therapist.”  _

“Yeah, well. She’s also a human being who needs sleep,” Buck mutters, bitterness sliding past his crumbling defenses and into his voice. “Plus, anyone would get sick of hearing about my life after a while.”

Of all people, it’s Chimney who jumps in next. This morning is full of surprises. 

“It’s kind of her job, Buckaroo. She’s doing this out of the goodness of the paycheck  _ you _ send her each session.” 

Buck merely ducks his head, shakes it. 

“I think…I think I’m just gonna go lay down before–” 

The alarms start to blare. Everyone in the firehouse jumps into action. 

“Sorry, Buck,” Eddie says sympathetically, slapping his shoulder. “Guess you’re gonna have to put a hold on that nap.” 

Buck downs the rest of his coffee in one gulp and braces himself for the incoming day. 

**Author's Note:**

> I might continue this if I have time...but y'all can see where this is going, right? Everybody's got a breaking point, and Buck's gonna reach his eventually.


End file.
